


Down and Out

by WinterDreams



Series: Lifeguard Verse [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 09:52:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3724453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterDreams/pseuds/WinterDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what, you just keep pounding the fuck out of someone until they stop moving?”</p><p>“Pretty much,” she says, and he wants to tell his brain to stop finding her smirk so god damn attractive when it’s so fucking arrogant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down and Out

**Author's Note:**

> Can be read as a stand-alone or in relation to the Lifeguard verse. One-shot for how Church and Tex first met in the Lifeguard verse.

“You need to exercise, Church,” the Director says for the fourth time that week.

Church looks up from the quiche and peas he’s been poking at for five minutes now. Carolina sits across from him, fork pausing halfway to her mouth at her father’s words. Most of the dinner has passed in silence except for Carolina’s explanation to her father about one of her classes’ latest projects. Church has kept himself in sullen silence, in no mood to talk after all the pestering text messages and calls he’s received from the Director that week. 

Now everyone falls quiet, waiting for Church’s answer as he steals a glance out the large kitchen window perched above the marble counters. Church wishes his phone would start ringing with a convenient emergency from Tucker that will get him out of his uncle’s house and back to the university dorm for the night.

Unfortunately, the only sound comes from the ticking of the grandfather clock in the room over, and Church looks over at the Director’s unimpressed face.

“Huh?” Church asks, knowing how much the Director hates repeating himself. It will probably just make things worse, but Church is in no hurry to repeat the conversation.

“First year is ending,” the Director says. “Which means you can’t use your classes as an excuse to continually destroy your body.”

Church scowls, and forces himself not to glance down at his limbs. He wants to point out that’s he just a little skinnier than he had been before first year, and has avoided the so called “Freshman 15.” Maybe he has absolutely no muscles left and he is constantly exhausted, but it could be worse.

“Plenty of university students never use the rec centre,” Church points out. “And they’re still alive.”

“We’re not discussing them or their health right now. Now, unless you want to keel over from a clogged artery at the age of–”

“I’m already at a gym,” Church blurts out before he can stop and consider what a stupid idea it is.

All he cares about is getting the Director to shut up and drop the subject, and clearly none of Church’s arguments are going to work. They rarely do.

Both the Director and Carolina stare at him.

“Yeah, the university was always crowded as fuck so none of the equipment was available,” Church continues.

He’s already lied about being at the university gym once before, and Carolina’s ability to do a quick sweep of the place and find him absent had exposed that lie. Church is determined not to make the same mistake twice. “And it always smelled like piss or whatever so I just got myself a membership at this one downtown.”

He shovels a forkful of quiche into his mouth and the Director clears his throat.

“I see. Why didn’t you just say so?”

Church has simply been ignoring most of the text messages the Director sent him about it, rather than outright saying no. Even negating his statement will be engaging in conversation, and once that happens, there will be no way for Church to free himself without giving into the Director.

“Haven’t been going for a while,” Church says with a shrug. “Final projects and all that.”

“What’s the name?”

“What?” Church looks up at his cousin. She presses her hands together and studies his expression carefully.

“I said, what’s the name of the place?”

He wants to kick her under the table for making this harder than it needs to be. Most of the times she’s on his side, but it’s possible she’s still mad at him for spilling his Coke on her notes despite the accidental nature of it all.

“Uh, it’s a GoodLife,” Church says quickly as he pulls up a memory of the storefronts downtown. “You know the one downtown?”

“Oh, the one near Chapters?” Carolina asks, and Church can see a smirk already forming on her face.

“Yup, that one.”

“You going tomorrow on your break?” She powers through before he can get another word out. “I’ll be down there for a group project, so I can give you a ride.”

“What a good idea, Carolina,” the Director says, and Church wishes he had spilt the Coke on purpose now. “I’m sure Church appreciates the facilitation of his exercise, right, Church?”

Oh yeah. Definitely wishes he had spilled that Coke on purpose.

“Right,” he says, refusing to let her have the last laugh in this situation. He offers Carolina a smile. “Thanks, coz.”

“No problem, coz,” she replies, and then continues eating her meal.

***

Church doesn’t back out as soon as Carolina mentions the gym the next day like she had probably thought he would. Instead, Church scrambles to throw together a gym bag, grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and meets her outside by the car.

“Really?” she says, and he just rises an eyebrow at her.

“What?”

She crosses her arms at him. “You mess up the dates for your group project? Shit, well don’t worry about it, I can take the bus so–”

“Get in,” she interrupts.

They spend the twenty minute drive mostly in silence, except to insult each other’s music tastes while fighting over the radio station. Carolina drops him off and waits at the curb to watch him enter the building, saying she’ll text him when she’s done if he wants a ride home. With no other choice clear to him, Church hoists his gym bag over his shoulder and heads inside.

Church just sits around in the lobby for a few minutes before accepting his fate. He spends a great deal of time grumbling about it to himself and bitching about it over text with Tucker. When Tucker finally tells him to just shut the fuck up and get a membership if he’s stuck there, Church decides to do just that. The other option is accepting defeat to Carolina and that will give her ammo for at least three months.

Church is not prepared to live through that.

It takes about half an hour to actually get a membership and once he’s in, Church doesn’t know what to do. All the equipment looks too pointless or too exhausting, and he fucking hates running. He could always use the pool but he hasn’t brought his swimsuit.

As boring as the cycling machines look, Church finally makes himself go on one and shoves his earbuds in his ears.

Church lasts about twenty minutes on the thing, and then he’s too sweaty, bored, and tired to make himself keep going. He gets off and wanders around the building while constantly checking his phone for a text from Carolina. He’s about seventy-five percent certain the group project is bullshit and she’s just letting the appropriate amount of time pass before texting him.

Which is when Church stumbles into a separate room that appears to be purely for boxing purposes. He didn’t think gyms like this were big enough, but the boxing ring in the middle of the room contradicts those beliefs. There’s punching bags and other equipment all throughout the room, but there’s only two occupants for the moment.

They’re in the middle of the boxing ring. Two girls, one holding up focus mitts for the blonde girl to punch. There are kicking shields resting against the red ropes surrounding the boxing ring. Church just watches them, gaze drawn to the puncher. Even during a pause, she’s constantly moving as she bounces on the balls of her feet. Her hair is tied back into a ponytail but a few strands escape and stick to her sweaty face.

When she gets off a particularly good combination of hits and her friend compliments it, the blonde grins in response. It’s both feral and joyful at the same time, and Church can easily picture her giving the same grin in response to beating up a bunch of drunk assholes in a back alleyway.

Church thinks he really shouldn’t find that as attractive as he does given he’s pretty sure she would classify _him_ as an asshole.

The girls notice him at the same time, the blonde one offering one last right hook before she whirls around to face Church. The other girl slowly lowers the focus mittsand offers Church a polite smile.

“Oh hello,” she says. “Would you like to use the ring?”

“Uh no that’s okay, you ladies just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“And what are you going to do?” the blonde asks him. The interested look she gives him only lasts three seconds, and the dismissal stings.

“Who knows,” he says with a shrug. “I’ve been on the machines for an hour so I’m pretty tuckered out. Mind if I just sit on that bench?”

“Poor you,” the blonde says at the same time her friend goes,

“No, go ahead.”

Church takes a seat on the wooden bench and the girls go back to work. He’s so focused on watching the effortless way they seem to move, that it takes him a few seconds to realize when they start talking to him again.

“I said,” the blonde repeats herself. “Did you wanna come into the ring?”

“Yeah no, I think I’m good here.”

“So why’d you come here if you don’t box?”

“I didn’t say I don’t box, I just–I forgot my stuff.”

“I could lend you mine if you would like,” the blonde’s friend suggests. “It might be a bit tight but your hands seem small.”

Church bristles a little at that, though it’s clear the girl didn’t mean it as an insult. The blonde looks like she’s suppressing an amused smirk, and it’s enough to tug him from the bench and accept the girl’s offer.

He realizes the second after he’s left alone in the ring with the blonde that he has made a horrible, _horrible_ decision. Not only does he _not_ know how to the box, the blonde is making no effort to hide her grin now. It dissuades any hope for mercy.

Church is on his back in four seconds, blinking up at the ceiling.

“I’m pretty fucking sure you’re not supposed to trip people in boxing,” Church snaps at her. He pushes himself into a crouch and she shrugs.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t know how to box,” she replies. “Which means this isn’t really a boxing match.”

“Well if you want to play it like that,” Church says, and then lunges for her legs.

This is a monumentally stupid idea given the blonde simply has to put out her leg and Church crashes into it with his chest. When he manages to get back to his feet, the girl’s smile has simply gotten bigger.

Church lasts another few minutes before he is leaning against the red rope and wheezing.

“You’re a bitch,” Church tells her, and hates that he isn’t any less attracted to her after she’s kicked his ass.

“And you’re clearly an asshole,” the blonde says.

“You’ve known me for ten minutes!”

“And you’ve only known me for that long too.”

“You fucking beat the shit out of me when I clearly had no chance!”

“You kept getting up.”

“So what, you just keep pounding the fuck out of someone until they stop moving?”

“Pretty much,” she says, and he wants to tell his brain to stop finding her smirk so god damn attractive when it’s so fucking arrogant. _She’s_ so fucking arrogant. “Hey, you didn’t tell me to stop and you didn’t tap out of the ring. Means you were still fair game.”

“Wow thanks, I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I challenge a fucking _maniac_ to a boxing round.”

“Maybe next time you should remember to challenge them to something you can actually do,” she suggests, and he has to mentally concede a point to her on that one. “Christ, do you always whine this much?”

“I’ll have you know, I am the least fucking annoying person in my friend group,” he tells her. “Tucker’s the whiner. And in that case, how do you feel about Halo?”

“She once took five shots of tequila and then won seven rounds of Slayer in a row,” the blonde’s friend says in the same tone she might have tell someone the time of day.

Before Church can respond, his phone begins to buzz insistently. Part of him is grateful for the escape route, and the other part of him wants to throw every swear word he knows at Carolina for her timing. Given that the latter will result in a trip to the hospital, Church decides to text back that he’s coming with only his typical level of cursing.

“Later, cockbite,” the blonde says, and turns back to her friend when Church starts to leave.

“Have a good day,” her friend says, and after the ass-kicking he received from the blonde, Church doesn’t trust her friend’s politeness one bit.

***

The second time Church returns to the gym, the blonde is alone in the boxing ring. Church goes back a week after his first run-in with her, on both a different day and at a different time. It’s past ten pm on a Wednesday, and the gym is a nice escape from the annoying loudness of everyone in his dorm.

This time Church lasts about half an hour on the treadmill before he has to stop. Sweat makes his t-shirt stick to his back and he’s even more out of breath than the first time. The lack of sleep and food makes his legs feel even weaker than his first visit to the gym, but he keeps walking.

He makes it to the boxing ring once more, and he can hear Tucker’s disbelieving snort in his head. Tucker’s reply to Church’s modified version of what happened had been a simple, “dude, I didn’t realize you were such a fucking masochist.”

Curious, is the term Church chooses instead, and it echoes in his mind in a loop as he enters the room. Just like last time, no one else is in the room. But this time, the blonde’s friend is nowhere in sight. The blonde dances around the ring on her own, unbothered by the imaginary nature of the opponents she faces.

She notices Church quicker this time, and she pauses mid jab. She blinks, and then lowers her arms while Church offers as cocky a smile as he can manage. Rather than pull him into the ring like before, she ducks under the ropeand jumps down to join him on the floor.

“Where’s your friend?” Church asks.

“She’s sick.”

“Why are you here so late?” After their first meeting, Church had guessed she is the type who has a set time she always visits the gym. Eleven pm on a weeknight doesn’t fit the image and Church’s curiosity merely doubles in the face of it.

The girl shrugs.

“Night owl,” she says in way of explanation, and Church can understand that.

University has only worsened his sleeping habits so far, pushing his abnormally late bed-time even closer to the early start-time his classes impose on him. Tucker keeps complaining its making Church’s obnoxious levels of irritated swearing and snappish behaviour even worse, and tells Church to actually try sleeping if he’s so tired all the time.

But even when Church has his laptop turned off well before midnight and he tries to close his eyes, a restless energy keeps his mind forming endless loops of thoughts, and his body incapable of drifting off as quickly as his roommate. It’s only gotten worse recently, the stress of final projects and exams triggering his nightmares once more and making him consciously resist sleeping for as long as possible.

“Are you stalking me?” the girl asks, breaking Church out of his thoughts.

He wonders if she takes sleeping pills like Tucker keeps suggesting Church try, or if she has not reached that level of dysfunction. Bringing up one’s dysfunctions to a person whose name you don’t even know, however, is something Church considers severely weird.

Instead, he blurts out an answer to her question, and tries to ignore the way the shaky feeling in his limbs is only growing stronger.

“If I was really stalking you, I’d know your name by now.” She stares and Church winces.

“Wow.”

“Yeah sorry that was–really bad.”

“Creepy,” she says. “The term you are looking for is creepy. As fuck.”

Church suddenly sways on his feet and he blinks away pricks of black spheres in his vision.

“Yeah I meant to say, not stalking.”

“But I’m betting you don’t have any boxing gloves with you again?”

Her words are hard to focus on, as if there is a wall separating the two of them. Church blinks a couple times and tries to focus on her form.

“I would say I left them in my cousin’s car, but I feel like you’d just think I’m lying.”

“Cuz you are lying.”

“I didn’t–” His voice gets weaker and the dark spots bigger. “My back is still killing me from–”

The darkness has grown larger than room’s brightness, and he thinks he can hear the girl asking him if he’s okay.

Then he can’t hear anything at all.

***

When Church finds his way back to consciousness, the girl’s face looms in his vision. He blinks a couple times and she pulls away. He thinks he sees relief chase away concern in her facial expression, but then she’s shoving a water bottle in his face.

“Thanks,” he croaks, and struggles to sit up. The girl takes a step back and watches as he chugs nearly half the bottle.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick,” she comments, but doesn’t do anything more.

Church leans back against the wall and closes his eyes for a brief second. His cheeks feel hot, but he knows that’s from embarrassment more than anything else. “You gonna pass out again?”

“No,” Church says, but he keeps his eyes closed a few seconds longer.

“Do you do that a lot?”

“Fuck no.” Church opens his eyes at that and there’s the smallest upward curl to the girl’s lips now. “I just didn’t sleep much. Or eat really.”

“Smart.”

Church sets down the bottle and glances toward the empty doorway. He turns back to the girl.

“Is there any chance you’lljust pretend that never happened?”

“Not a fucking chance.” The small curl turns into a full grin, and Church’s response is automatic.

“I fucking hate you.”

She’s laughing when she replies,

“Hate you too, asshole.”

A tiny part of him begins to whisper that he is fucked when he grins in response, but her laughter rises above all other noise.

**Author's Note:**

> The term "down and out" in boxing refers to a boxer that has been completely defeated; knocked down to the floor and unconscious. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the read.


End file.
